Emotions
by JacquelineR
Summary: 'There was nothing Andy wanted to do more than kiss his lips and feel the familiar 5 o'clock shadow on his face against her skin. Tell him that it would be okay. And take away all of the pain that he was feeling.' Sam has just been shot by Kevin Ford and Andy finds herself in the hospital waiting room, wondering how they got to where they are. Post Season 4. One-shot.


**AN: Hi Internet Friends! This idea came into my head the other night and I had to get it out! Hope you enjoy.**

**Emotions**

Andy sat in the hospital waiting room, sitting in one of the uncomfortable faux-leather upholstered chairs that were lined up in a rigid line against the wall. Her head was dropped back, resting on the ugly pinky-mauve colored wall behind her. The elastic of her ponytail was digging into the back of her head, but she didn't care.

All she could think about was Sam. About what he had told her before they had found Oliver's missing squad car in the lot at 15 Division. Before the rest of the stuff that hadn't already hit the fan, hit the fan. About how Ford had shot Sam, and then Nick had shot Ford. About how much he meant to her, and how it was probably much too late to get that back.

Her heart raced in her chest as she thought about it. The shock and uncertainty and undeniably happy feeling she had felt when Sam had shared his feelings with her finally, when it may have been too late. The confusion and then horror of finding Oliver's squad car in the parking lot and realizing that Ford was already in the building. The calm that Sam somehow brought her when they began to search through the station for Ford. The worry when she tried to call Nick and he wasn't picking up his phone. And then the sheer panic that had turned her blood to ice in her veins when she heard Sam's shout to Kevin Ford, followed by a gunshot, the shot that had hit Sam square in the gut. She hadn't even heard the second gunshot from when Nick had shot Ford. Her heart had been pounding in her ears and everything else seemed to be quiet as she raced to Sam's side where he lay on the floor in the middle of 15 Division, bleeding and wincing in pain, but still struggling to get up.

There was nothing Andy wanted to do more than kiss his lips and feel the familiar 5 o'clock shadow on his face against her skin. Tell him that it would be okay. And take away all of the pain that he was feeling, from what she had caused, and from what Ford had inflicted.

And when he had been loaded into the ambulance and Andy had insisted that she ride along, she couldn't stop some of the tears from pooling in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks, leaving salty tracks down her face for more tears to follow. Sam wasn't meant to be laying on a stretcher with a paramedic working over him, bleeding heavily from his stomach. He wasn't meant to be in pain. He wasn't meant to be weak. And seeing him that way made Andy so scared, so nervous. Anxious that he wouldn't make it. Anxious that he would die without knowing her true feeling for him and how they hadn't changed since before she went undercover. Since before things with Nick.

So she told him a story. Her favorite story from their time together, even if it was because of something sad. His breathing had been labored as she told him about the time that he had made her short of breath, tickling her, teasing her. He was looking up at her hopefully as she told him about how they had fallen asleep together. And he nodded slowly when she told him about how she had woken up crying violently, and he had enveloped her in his arms, telling her that she was fine, that he was there and he wouldn't ever let anything hurt her. But this was hurting her, and as tears continued to slip down her cheeks, his hand found hers on the edge of the stretcher and he squeezed gently. She let out a soft laugh. Even when he was injured, he was still trying to comfort her. She leaned forward to kiss his head, her fingers toying in his silky hair, her lips soft against his forehead.

And then his eyes had slipped closed and the paramedic nudged Andy to the side.

Once at the hospital, many of the cops from 15 Division were gathered in the waiting area, doing just that. Waiting, until somebody came out to tell them what had happened, or if Detective Swarek was okay and going to make it.

It had felt like hours, but was really only 20 minutes and when the doctor came out to grab a file from the nurse at the desk, Frank had asked him when they could see him. The doctor had agreed to one person going back and Nick had volunteered Andy. When their eyes met, Andy saw sadness in Nick's eyes, but he knew. He had always known, even when Andy and Sam were too stubborn to know themselves. They loved each other. They were in love with each other.

Andy followed the doctor back and saw Sam being worked on in an emergency room bay by several nurses and doctors. His shirt was open and scarlet red blood seemed to be pouring from the bullet wound. His eyes were closed, his jaw slightly slack, his skin pale, sickly. Andy's heart was back to thudding up in her throat, the sound of blood pumping through her ears. The only sound that was able to penetrate her fogged over mind was the steady beeping from the vitals monitor with every beat of his heart.

And when the beeps began to come faster and closer together, Andy's own heart started to race. She glanced at the monitor as the zigzagged green line flattened suddenly and her eyes shot to Sam's form on the ambulance stretcher. She had seen enough TV to know that this was bad. She felt herself being pushed backwards, out of the room by a nurse in dark purple scrubs as the doctor that had invited her back barked orders at his team and began to perform CPR on Sam, his eyes wide, but miraculously not panicked as he watched Sam's face.

The nurse said something about blood loss and surgery and then pulled the door shut in front of Andy, effectively blocking her view and Andy swallowed hard. She knew that here was nothing that she could do. Except cross her fingers, hope for the best and pray to all things holy, that Sam would make it. Because… She took a few stumbled steps backwards and steadied herself on the wall. Because she loved Sam. Andy McNally loved Sam Swarek. And judging from what he had told her seemingly hours before, he loved her too. And judging from what was happening in the emergency room bay the she had just been pushed out of, this revelation was much, much too late.

She let out a choked sob and raised her hand to cover her mouth and nose, struggling to gather her emotions.

She loved Sam. Sam loved her.

And Sam was dying mere steps away from where she stood.

She pushed off of the wall and made her way back into the waiting area that she had just left and immediately felt several pairs of eyes on her. "McNally-" Frank said, his voice hesitant, almost not wanting to hear what she might say.

"He's going to surgery," Andy said, her voice croaking in her throat, "He was losing lots of blood and his heart-" she stopped for a moment, gathering a deep breath, trying to clear her throat, "His heart stopped. They were giving him CPR."

Gail was the first on her feet, and she crossed the room towards where Andy stood and wrapped her arms around her, gathering her into an impossibly tight hug. Andy rest her chin on the blonde's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut against the reality of the situation. "Sorry," she told Andy softly. Andy opened her mouth to reply and instead the sound of a slightly strangled sob came out.

The nurse in the purple scrubs came out to give everybody the update. He had lost a lot of blood so he needed a transfusion, and there was no way of knowing what the bullet had hit without opening him up in surgery. She looked at Andy and said that they had gotten his heart beating again and Andy couldn't help the feeling of relief that had washed over her at the words.

And that was how Andy found herself here, in the surgical waiting area on the crummy faux leather upholstered chairs, with the ugly pinky-mauve wall color, with her hair elastic digging into the back of her head, nearly eight hours later. Almost all of the other police officers had left, gone back to the barn to change and then to the Black Penny, waiting for updates on Sam's condition. Or Chloe's condition. Or Oliver's condition.

Traci was seated on a crummy chair directly to Andy's left, their hands clenched on the shared armrest. Their palms were sweaty, but neither seemed to care. Frank was seated across from them both, his phone clutched in his hand. Noelle had come a few hours ago with good coffees for each of them and all had taken them gratefully, but Andy's was still almost full, clutched in her free hand, the liquid cold by now.

The door opened and the Staff Sargent, Detective and Officer looked up expectantly. "Sam Swarek?" asked the doctor who had first brought Andy back, hours ago.

"That's us," Frank said, "Is he okay Doctor?"

"The surgery went well," the doctor said, "The bullet did quite a bit of damage but we repaired all that we could and removed the rest. He had lost a lot of blood, but we gave him several transfusions. He's being wheeled into recovery as we speak," he said, "He won't be better immediately, but hopefully within the next two months, he can be back to full duty."

"When can we see him?" Frank asked.

"Hopefully Sam will wake up in the next hour. Then we can let you back to see him." The doctor said.

An hour and twenty three minutes passed, not that Andy was counting. She brought her head forward off of the ugly wall as the door opened and focused on the friendly doctor as he walked in.

"He's awake," the doctor said, "He's a bit weak. Is there an Andy McNally here?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Andy croaked, perking up in her chair, leaning forward ever so slightly, "What is it?"

"He's been asking for you," the doctor said.

"Can I see him?" Andy asked, her heart clenching in her throat.

"Sure," the doctor said, "Maybe you can convince him to let the nurses take care of him."

She pushed herself to her feet and Traci squeezed her hand quickly before letting her go.

Andy's heart was pounding hard against her ribs as she followed the doctor back through the winding hospital hallways. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching into fists. She was anxious. Nervous. Scared. What if he had forgotten something about their past? About what they had shared just earlier in the day?

The doctor paused outside of a closed door and smiled encouragingly at her before he pushed open the door. She slipped inside behind the doctor and studied Sam, lying on the bed, his face pale, but his eyes open and mostly alert. They jumped to the doctor as he entered the room, followed by Andy. His pale face split into a smile, his dimples deep in his cheeks. "McNally," he said warmly. His voice was weak and sounded like his throat was dry.

"Hey Sam," Andy said, her voice hoarse as the doctor excused himself silently.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, concerned, tilting his head slightly.

"Are you?" she asked, her voice more forceful that she had intended. She crossed her arms across her chest and felt tears begin to form in her eyes.

"Andy," he said, studying her face from where he lay in the hospital bed, "Come here."

Andy crossed the room to the side of his bed and he reached up with a hand and snagged her fingers between his. With her free hand she reached forward and pushed his dark hair back from his forehead. She took the cup of water on his tray and held it to his lips and watched as he slowly drank some, clearing his throat as it went down. "What do you remember?" Andy asked him softly, setting the cup back on the tray and placing her hand back on his somewhat clammy forehead.

"I remember taking off my vest and getting ready to leave," Sam said, his voice more or less back to normal, "And I remember you following me and us finding Oliver's squad car in the lot. I remember going inside with you and starting to let people know that Ford was in the station. And I remember Ford was about to shoot Collins and I stepped in and instead he shot me." Sam said, his eyes searching Andy's.

"Anything else?" Andy asked, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

"You ran to me," Sam said. He tried to readjust his position in the bed and winced at the movement, "And I was trying to get up but you wouldn't let me. And then I was loaded into the ambulance and on the way here."

"Is that it?" Andy asked, her heart in her throat. She didn't know if she had it in her to tell Sam the same story from the happier times again.

"It might have been the pain, or the blood loss, or the anesthesia," Sam said, "But I could have sworn that you were in the ambulance with me," he said. He dragged his thumb over the backs of her knuckles and she looked down at their joined hands. "You told me a story about us," she glanced back at his face to see him smiling a somewhat vacant smile as if he was reminiscing on the very same memory, "About one night when we were together. You were laughing and I was teasing you, and then we'd fallen asleep and you woke up, crying and I was there for you," Sam's eyes came up to meet hers, somewhat hesitantly, "And you told me how I made you feel?" he finished the phrase on a question, "Right?"

"Right," Andy breathed, her voice almost giving out.

He was silent. And then, "I love you, Andy McNally," Sam said softly.

Andy's eyes jumped to his and she saw the sincere smile on his face, his handsome dimples in his handsome face, the regular Swarek twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen directed at her for far too long.

She was silent, her heart pounding against her ribs, leaping in her chest. He loved her. Sam Swarek loved her. And he had told her willingly.

"Say something," Sam said, his smile starting to slip from his face at her silence, "Say anything. Or punch me in the face. Or poke my eye out," he said, suggesting the last one in a joking tone. He looked expectantly up at her.

"Say it again," Andy whispered finally.

"I love you," Sam said instantly.

"I love you too," Andy replied, bending at the hips and leaning forwards to press her lips to his softly. Her heart soared as their lips met, the familiar feelings swirling in her stomach. She carefully cupped his chin in her hand and her fingers gently toyed in the hair behind his ears and on the nape of his neck. She rest her forehead against his when she leaned back from him slightly and opened her eyes. Sam was looking back up at her, his eyes holding a promise that Andy had never actually seen there before.

A promise of a future. Of a life together.

The thought filled Andy with different emotions that she had yet to feel that day. Hope. Joy. And a sense that no matter what was happening around her, as long as she had Sam, everything would be okay.

**AN: Let me know your thoughts. I may add another chapter if requested. And for those of you reading Irrevocable, I will be updating that ASAP! Thanks! =)**


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